


The Things I've Said in Silence

by Alwaysradpirate



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, OtabekAltin/YuriPlisetsky (past), Post-Break Up, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10631256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alwaysradpirate/pseuds/Alwaysradpirate
Summary: This is a story about what happens when friends become best friends, who then become lovers, who then become exes. Follow Yuri Plisetsky processes this as he's about to face his ex in the 2026 Grand Prix Finals.Tags will be added as needed...





	1. Prologue:  Phantom Limb Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xyliandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyliandra/gifts).



> While I may not get asks on tublr, I seem to get them in real life. So, Xyliandra I hope you enjoy the first installment of otayuri angst that we talked about. I'll try to update on a semi-regular basis if people seem to like it. 
> 
> I hate myself for this, because I'm sinking my own damn ship!

The sun streamed through the window bringing him back to reality.  Reality sucked for Yuri Plisetsky.  Sleep had become a soothing balm which granted him brief escape from the strange mixture of pain, apathy, and a feeling that reminded him of the strange tingling sensation his limbs would get when they fell asleep; like there was something there and he could no longer feel it.  It was the last feeling that worried him in some abstract way.  He could deal with pain.  A lifetime as a professional athlete left him well equipped for handling physical and emotional pain.  He actually didn’t mind the apathy.  It wasn’t great.  Apathy kept him from tasting his food; seeing the sunlight; smelling the roses; hugging his friends and family; hearing his favorite song; and feeling anything other than the apathy.  However, the hollow feeling gave him the presence of mind to act like he was ok and go about his day.  The tingling sensation, though, was different.  He knew the cause, but knowing the cause didn’t alleviate the symptoms.  The cause was the last five years of his life.  The cause was his damned heart.  The cause was feeling Otabek Altin as well as he could feel his own arm, but knowing that he had awoken in pain alone. 

He battled with himself to get out of bed.  The temptation to close his curtains and go back to bed until the last minute was strong.  Heaven knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep on the plane.  Plus, by tomorrow he’d have to wake up at his usual time. The Grand Prix finals were not something to take lightly.  He groggily checked his phone.  He had about three hours before he had to leave for the airport with his coaches and rink mate.  Another forty-five minutes wouldn’t hurt.  He’d still have plenty of time to shower, run, and stretch.  So, he set his alarm; buried his face in his blankets; and let his eyes close.  The minute his eyes shut his mind was flooded with memories from the last ten years; or more precisely memories of Otabek Altin flitted across his mind.  He fell back into a fitful sleep.

It’d been almost two years, but his unconscious mind forced the dreams that told Yuri Plisetsky one thing.  He still was not ready to even see Otabek Altin, let alone compete against him. His dreams were always like this.  They had the look of a bright, cheery, fluff filled musical; but had the feel of dread, pain, foreboding, and something bitter.  This time he dreamed of Barcelona.  He could remember it all.  He saw the beautiful sunset, a chiseled jaw, and an extended hand.  He heard that smoke and whiskey voice demanding friendship; complimenting his eyes, and laughing richly.  He could smell leather and motor oil, sea breezes, and coffee.  He felt his arms around a taught waist, the rumble of the motorcycle, and the warmth of the café.  He felt happy and alive for a small instant before the dream flipped itself upside down.  The beauty remained, but the feeling changed.  The feeling turned to something rank and gross in nature.  Then he knew pain as beautiful pictures played in his head.

He woke abruptly before his alarm went off.  He turned and felt his arm reach for comfort that was no longer there, the phantom sensation at the forefront of his emotions.  His pillow was wet with the tears that wouldn’t come in his waking hours.  He could hear the rumble of the shower across the hall.  He could smell coffee wafting from the first floor to beckon him from his slumber. He felt the brightening morning light in his face more intensely than he had an hour ago.  He cursed internally, took a few deep breaths; and let the apathy take over.  He followed his usual morning routine of caffeine, followed by stretching, then a run.  During his run he came to one solid conclusion.  He’d give every gold medal he’d ever won to be free from this.  He could sorely use just one morning free from reaching for Otabek Altin only to have his arm meet the mattress.  Feeling something that wasn’t there was killing him.  That was what the tingling sensation did.  It made him feel like half of him wasn’t missing, but left him to know it was.

When he arrived back at the dorm, no one noticed his red rimmed eyes.  If they did, then they did not say anything about it. 


	2. Airports Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first bit of good memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only the first part, but I'm having severe writers block and probably won't finish. Positive/constructive feedback is welcome.

“Kick everyone’s butt at the Grand Prix, Uncle Yurio,” Yuri heard his goddaughter squeak as he loaded his last bag into the van.

“Of course I will, Rocky!  I always do,” he replied with what he hoped was a confident and indulgent smile.  Deep down, he could remember that he loved the little girl dearly, even though he couldn’t quite feel it.  He never wanted his goddaughter to know he couldn’t feel for her.  She didn’t deserve to think that there was something wrong with her because of his apathy blanket.  The love he had for her was there.  It pushed and shoved against his apathetic state and occasionally found a way in.  So, he bent down and opened his arms to her.  She rushed into them.

“Uncle Yurio, do you think you’ll be able to come watch me practice when you get back,” she pleaded.  Roksana Ren Katsuki-Nikiforov seemed to have inherited her Papa and Daddy’s talent for ice skating, and she’d been after Yuri to come watch her practice for a good two weeks now.  A pang of guilt burst through his apathy blanket.  This was his goddaughter; he should be more involved. 

“Of course, I won’t have to practice so much after that.  I hear you have a new routine that you’ve been practicing.  I’m sure it’ll be bad ass, right?”

“Thank you, Uncle Yurio!  It’ll be the best thing ever!  I swear,” was the over enthusiastic reply he received. 

“Roksana, we’re going to leave in a minute.  You have to say goodbye to Kenji and your Papa before we all leave.  Remember to mind your grandma and grandpa while we’re gone,” Yuuri interrupted them.

“Alright, dad, I’ll be good.  I love you have fun in Barcelona with Papa and Kenji.  Bye, Uncle Yurio,” the little girl shouted as she scampered off to bid Victor and Kenji farewell. 

“Are you ready for this, Yurio,” Yuuri asked him in what Yuri had long ago dubbed his mommy voice. 

“I’m fine.  It’s not like it will be my first time seeing him.  Plus, my ankle is fully healed.  I’ve had a good season, and I feel good about this,” he replied in matter of fact manner.  The anger he’d held for the Japanese man and his husband had a half-life that was directly related to his age.  Every year that passed since his eighteenth birthday had sliced his bad temper in half.  At twenty-five, it had all but dissipated.  The calming of his temper had been one of the better things to happen to him in the last ten years.  For a few years, it had allowed him to simply be content and somewhat happy with life.

“If you’re sure, then I suppose I’ll trust you.  It’s just… I know.  Everyone else might be fooled, but you can’t kid a kidder, Yuri,” his more motherly coach said.  “I’m not going to say you’re not ok for this competition.  I know you can do it, but I know you’re not ok overall.  I want you to be ok overall, whatever it takes.  You really should talk to someone.  I know I worry too much, but you’re family and I can’t help myself.”

Yuri took a deep breath then said, “I know I’m not where I should be.  It’s been two years and I’ll admit I’m not over it, but I can’t afford to think of it right now.  I need to focus.  When we get back, I promise I’ll call that doctor of yours. Don’t worry so much about me, mom.”

“Mother’s prerogative to worry about her children,” Yuuri said with a small grin.  “Also, it’s what my anxious self does.  Also, fuck you I’m a man and wouldn’t be a mom.  Anyhow, everything you need in the van?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re all man and I shouldn’t call you mommy even if you act like it.  I’m all ready to go.  I still need to say goodbye to your son, though.  Want me to tell the prima donna and the chicken nugget to get a move on?”

“Stop calling Kenji that.  He doesn’t even have his hair colored like that anymore.  Please send them out, though,” Yuuri said.

Yuri went into the house and delivered Yuuri’s message.  He watched as his silver haired coach kissed both of his children one last time before leaving.  Yuri said his farewells to Ichirou.  The small boy smiled politely at him and wished him luck.  Then he gave Yuri a quick hug and went back to whatever book he was reading.  Yuri felt a wave of amusement sneak past his emotional defenses.  How Yuuri and Victor managed to have a kid that preferred books to ice skating was still a wonder to him.  Unlike his sister, Ichirou Vladmir had no desire towards ice skating, or any competitive sport for that matter.  Yuri imagined that he was much like Yuuri had been as a child, but not interested in ice skating.  Five minutes later they were on their way to the airport.   

……

They arrived at Tokyo International with little fuss and checked in their luggage.  They were a couple of hours early because that’s how international travel worked.  Once they were through security, Yuri took in his surroundings.  He always thought airports were strange places.  No matter how different they looked on the outside, airports all seemed to be the same on the inside. 

They always attracted the same people.  There were the rare wandering souls that were there for the simple joy of travelling.  They were mostly innocuous.  They were the people that simply got through the airport.  The airport was still part of the travels to something bigger and better.  They weren’t all there as they hustled and bustled from their gates and the baggage claim.  Then, there were the travelling families.  This group generally featured an annoyed looking father with a haggard looking mother toting one piece of luggage too many as she desperately screamed at one of her wayward spawn.  At least one of the children would be crying or ill during travel.  They were always in the way of the business jerks.  The business jerks were easy to spot.  They had small trendy suitcases; bustled about the airport as if they owned the place; and heaven forbid you got in the way of their arrogant strut to a connecting flight. They could often be found rolling their eyes at children on the plane and berating the airline personnel.  Then, in stark comparison to the business jerks, were the lovers.  The lovers were anyone there to see someone off or pick someone up.  They were always milling about nervously in their designated areas. They were the most physical group of the airport community.  They could often be found hugging, kissing, and cuddling someone.  They were also the same group that was always paying for the overpriced faire of the airport.  Yuri wondered if…

Yep, there it was.  Intermixed with all the usual identifiable chains that littered the halls of all the airports was the coffee and pastry shop.  Yuri could see the small sticky tables with wobbly legs.  The standard coffee shop always attracted crowds, in particular the lover types.  The business jerks took their coffee to go.  They could never be bothered to sit, linger a moment, and just watch the world go by them until they needed to be at their gate.  The families didn’t get coffee all together.  One of the adults would quietly purchase the liquid energy and then remove themselves to one of the burger chains where the children would eat.  The lover types, though, had all the time in the world.  Lovers sat at their shaky table sharing hushed conversations, longing looks, and terrible tasting pastries. 

He watched the coffee area for a moment, and a pang of pain shot through him.  Bittersweet memories flooded his mind.  Airports were so central to them, especially in those early days.  Those overpriced coffee shops were little slices of heaven on earth.  They would sit at their small, sticky, wobbly tables and the world would fade away leaving just him and Otabek.  He felt himself transported back in time without moving an inch.  He could recall it all vividly: the first airport; the first argument; the first airport pick-up; the last airport.  It blew his apathy blanket away leaving him naked and raw, ripe for the barbs of bittersweet pain that the memories would throw against his now vulnerable mind and heart.

……

_El Prat ten years earlier..._

He still couldn’t believe it.  He was fifteen and had won gold at his first Grand Prix, hell he’d broken a world record along the way.  He carried his medal in his pocket and he’d been looking at it almost as much as his phone.  Each time he looked at his medal, he would grin.  It was the physical reminder that he had done it.  It reminded him that it was all real.  It was a physical reminder that he’d taken an important step towards earning the life he’d coveted watching Viktor all those years.  This behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed by his companion.  They were sitting at one of those overpriced cafes in El Prat awaiting their respective flights.  His new friend was seated directly in front of him and chuckled richly every time he checked his pocket for the medal.

“You know, you could have packed it in your carry-on.  It would have been safe and secure that way,” Otabek said in a teasing tone.

“I guess you’re right.  Of course, if I had stowed it away, then I wouldn’t be able to annoy you by looking at it so much, Mr. Fourth Place,” Yuri had teased back.  It amazed him.  He did not like most people.  Of the people he liked, he got along with very few.  Of those he got along with, the relationships took ages to build.  Yet, Otabek was different.  Being around him was easy as breathing.  Somehow, he’d found a friend; a friend that just seemed to get him.  It was wonderful.  Not that his cat, Sasha, wasn’t great company, but it was already nice to have a human friend.  In a week, his world had gotten a bit bigger and perhaps the smallest bit brighter.

“Mr. Fourth Place, huh?  Tall criticism from the same annoying brat who begged me to be in his exhibition skate,” he quipped back amiably.  It was refreshing.  As he sipped his coffee, he mentally ran through the other skater’s expressions if he had said something similar to them.  JJ would have been like, “who cares I did it JJ style,” then proceeded to insult his masculinity and probably cry a bit.  Chris would’ve leered and said something perverted.  The Katsudon would’ve teared up and melted into a puddle of insecurity and anxiety.  Mila would have put him in a headlock.  Otabek, though, understood. Without being told, Otabek understood that Yuri was trying to convey something more like affection than trying to hurt someone else.  Hell, he even kept the wherewithal to quip back.

“I did not beg, you shithead!  I simply offered.  I can’t help that you were desperate to lend a hand.  You were the one desperate to skate with me since fourth placers don’t get exhibitions…”

“Thinking of hands and your exhibition skate, did you see the idiot on twitter that called my part in your routine?”

“Otabek I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Yuri said a little too innocently.  The poor girl’s mistake had actually gone viral much to Yuri’s amusement and annoyance.  Otabek gave him a look.  He sighed, “I’m sorry for her mistake.  I guess you’re pretty uncomfortable with it, right?  I think it was just a mistranslation gone wrong.  No one with a brain thinks you actually finger banged me.”  Of course by now he was trying to rein in his giggles over the whole thing.  It really sounded worse than what it was.

“Go ahead and laugh, you didn’t have Nikiforov calling you at three in the morning demanding to know your intentions,” Otabek glared, but his tone conveyed amusement.

“Well, he does fall into the category of people without brains.  One of these days I might actually kill that damn idiot.  I apologize for his lunacy.  I think Katsudon has removed what little brains he was originally gifted.”

“The implications don’t bother you,” Otabek asked seriously. 

Yuri felt something seize in him then.  He was uncertain.  Despite the conclusions that could be drawn from his exhibition skate, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with his sexuality yet.  In fact, he was somewhat terrified of it.  Homosexuality was not generally accepted in Russia.  Viktor seemed to be the exception, probably because he was consistently great and earned many honors for Russia through his skating.  Even this season, Viktor had done something Russia could boast about by transforming the Katsudon into a silver earning skater.  Viktor’s romantic peccadillos had gone without scrutiny for many years.  However, that didn’t apply to him.  At least not now, Yuri Plisetsky hadn’t earned that right yet.  One Grand Prix win wasn’t enough.  One broken record wouldn’t suffice.  If he told the world about his interest in men today, he would face serious consequences at home.  Worse yet, there was a Kazakh man sitting across from him waiting for an answer.  Kazakhstan was only slightly more accepting than Russia when it came to homosexuality. Otabek had clapped politely when Phichit had announced Viktor and Yuuri’s engagement to that restaurant, but Yuri didn’t really know what he thought or felt about people being other than straight.  He had to take a chance.  He grasped his medal and summoned his courage. 

“I can’t resent the implications when they have an element of truth to them.  I kind of figured out this past season that I have more in common with Viktor than blond hair and being good at figure skating.  So, I guess I can’t be too uncomfortable,” he said. His face burned bright red.  He really hoped that this wouldn’t be the end to a friendship barely begun. 

“Oh,” Otabek said.  He looked like he was debating what to say next.  Yuri prepared himself to hear the worst.  “Well then, congratulations on figuring out what you like.  Personally, I don’t have a preference one way or another.  It’s all just parts to me.  The person they’re connected to is what is or is not attractive, in my opinion.  Don’t worry.  I won’t say anything about this until you say it’s ok.  I hope I can expect the same from you, we are friends after all.  This is not something that is necessary to hide from each other.”

Yuri felt flabbergasted.  He hadn’t known what to expect from his admission, but Otabek matter-of-factly accepting then talking about his own preferences like they were talking about the weather hadn’t been an imagined outcome. He took a moment to catch his breath before giving his assurances that there was honor amongst thieves. 

Their conversation turned after that. They covered all the important topics to two people forming a friendship.  It reminded him of the time spent in that café before they were interrupted by the Old Man, the Katsudon, and company.  Otabek confided his side career as a DJ.  Yuri showed him all the pictures he had on his phone of his cat and grandpa.  Otabek showed him pictures of his parents and siblings.  Yuri was surprised at how large his family was.  They argued over the superiority of X-box One versus PlayStation 4.  Yuri defended his ps4 valiantly.  They laughed over stupid things on the internet.  Yuri quickly realized that Otabek had little presence on the web.  He seemed to have all the usual accounts, but Otabek hadn’t updated his Instagram in ages.  As their friendship warmed, their coffee cooled; and time slipped stealthily by.  They were rudely interrupted by Otabek’s phone going off.  Yuri recognized the song playing and grinned.  Otabek had good taste in music. 

“Oh, crap,” Otabek exclaimed, “I’m sorry, but I need to get to my gate.  I lost track of the time.  Good thing I set that damn alarm.”

“I should probably be going too.  My flight leaves about half an hour after yours.  It was nice to meet you again after all these years.  You’re way better company than most of those other assholes.”

“I’m glad you think so.  I was worried when you called me an asshole in the hotel,” Otabek chuckled, “I hope to hear from you soon.”

“Don’t worry.  You’ll probably get sick of hearing from me.  I’m always on my phone, but if you tell anyone I admitted it I’ll skate over your jugular with dull blades,” he threatened.  Otabek laughed.

“All secrets are safe with me.  I value my life too much to piss off such a ferocious person.  See you next season,” Otabek said as he held out his hand to Yuri.

“I’d better.  Remember Viktor is coming back next year.  As my friend, I expect you to kick his old ass off the ice with me,” he commanded putting his hand into Otabek’s.

“Viktor will go down in a most pathetic fashion,” Otabek said as he shook Yuri’s hand.  As he left he said, “See you around, Yuri!”

“Not if I see you first, Otabek,” Yuri said.  He waved at his friend one last time.  Before he took off in the direction of his gate, he checked their table to make sure he didn’t leave anything.  That’s when he noticed the grey-blue scarf on the seat Otabek’s previously occupied chair.  He grabbed it.  He could send it to Otabek when he got home.  When his plane landed in Moscow and he was allowed to turn on his phone, a text from Otabek was waiting for him.  Somehow, he never got around to returning the scarf. 

……

_Orly Airport Eight Years Earlier_ ……

Another competition, another gold medal, and another airport, but their relationship had deepened since the first.  They sat at another small crummy airport café.  They had blown through their usual conversations about movies, music, video games, and whatnot.  Then, conversation took a turn for the annoying.  They had come around to their most tense topic that they discussed with each other, relationships.  For some reason, it was weird to talk to each other about their love interests.  However, they still talked.  This particular conversation happened to be focused on Yuri and the idiot who had rejected him earlier this month. 

“I don’t understand why he rejected me. Am I ugly or something,” he asked flipping back his obscenely long hair, “I mean it seemed like we were getting along.  We were friendly at least.  He’s gay.  I don’t understand why he didn’t want to date me, Beka.”

Otabek looked at him as if he was deciding something.  “You know if you two were hanging out he probably got to know you a bit.  I know it’s easier to build a relationship with someone you already know, but there’s also the downside to it too.  Not that you’re not great, but you can be a bit of a challenge.  I’m sure he recognized that after getting to know you a bit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I know you express your affection through being super competitive, arguing, and hitting people, but it might have intimidated him. If you screamed or hit him, he might have gotten the impression you weren’t interested.  Even if he understood, he might have been off put by your behavior.  There’s a lot people can tolerate in their friendships but not in their romantic relationships.”

“What are you getting at, Altin?”  Otabek looked a little uncomfortable; Yuri hadn’t called him Altin since they became friends two years ago, but he was resigned.  He looked very calm as Yuri was starting to feel himself burn.  _Weren’t friends just supposed to tell you the guy was a dirt bag_ , Yuri thought to himself?

“Well to be perfectly frank, I wouldn’t want to date someone as violent as you are.  He probably felt the same.  It’s a lot to ask of someone.  I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be angry over things or that you aren’t really awesome deep down, but I mean you go around baiting people into competitions, kicking, and screaming.  It’s violent bordering on abusive and I can understand his reluctance.”

“Careful, Altin, I’ve kicked better than you over less.  Jackass.”

“Exactly my point.  How long was it before Viktor’s bruises on his back went down?  What did he do?  Get married to a man he’s in love with?  Viktor totally deserved it.  What about all the threats to other Yuuri?  As if that poor man doesn’t have enough problems, you go around threatening him over stupid competitions!  That other skater was probably frightened if he ever messed up you’d kick the crap out of him, Yura.  Plus, it’s just unattractive.  You act like a toddler when you’re angry.  Who wants to date a child?”

“Is that really how you think of me, asshole?” He asked as his hand made a movement to slap Otabek across the face.  Otabek caught his hand before it could reach its target.  He was controlled, but his face held that menacing glare Yuri had only ever seen once.  It was very similar to the expression he gave JJ at the Grand Prix in 2016, but this time it was directed at him.  That glare was terrifying. 

“I will not hit nor will I be hit by you or anyone else, Yuri Plisetsky.  I wouldn’t have thought that this needed to be explained.  I’m at gate 328.  I am going to go find it.  If you wish to continue our friendship, you will meet me here and apologize before my flight leaves in two and a half hours; furthermore, you will never attempt to hit me again.  I won’t tolerate it.  You need to grow up.”  Otabek was calm when he said this.  There was no anger in his voice.  He said it the same way he said most things.  He was just stating facts.  His calm voice was the worst. 

Otabek was true to his word.  He dropped Yuri’s hand, stood up, and exited the café area.  Yuri was shaking with rage.  He felt murderous.  He sat there and seethed for a good twenty minutes when all of a sudden clarity hit him like truck.  He sat there a minute thinking about all the times he’d baited, shouted, hit, and kicked.  He realized that he’d had many tantrums in front of the idiot that’d rejected him.  Hell, he’d even tried to bait the little moron into a competition or two and was pretty sure he’d punched the guy’s arm at one point.  This wasn’t the way he wanted his life to go.  He really did care for people.  Perhaps Otabek was right.  He could use a new way of expressing that. 

Thinking about Otabek caused a sudden bout of terror to seize his chest.  If he didn’t change Otabek was not going to be friends with him anymore.  This caused him to panic.  It had taken two years, but Otabek Altin was practically as important to him as his grandpa.  They spoke almost every day.  Beka never made demands of him.  He never treated him as a child or underling.  He always gave him respect. They still had a bunch in common.  He always had fun with him.  He could talk to him about anything.  For the first time in his life, Yuri had a true friend.  When he realized that, Yuri sprinted to Beka’s gate.  He still had time, but he needed to solve this.

When he arrived at the gate, it took him a minute to spot his friend.  He was sitting by an outlet staring out the windows with his headphones on.  Yuri walked over to him and sat down. 

“Hey, asshole, I’m sorry!”  Yuri said after he pushed Otabek’s headphones off, “You were right.  I need to grow up and stop with the physical abuse.”  Otabek turned and smiled at him in that way that seemed to be reserved just for him. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry too, jackass.  I was little overly cruel.  You’re just eighteen.  Hell, you know I don’t really have room to talk.  You remember me from two years ago.  It’s wrong of me to expect you to act older than anyone else.  I probably should’ve just said something like, ‘that guy is a jerk and he doesn’t deserve you.’  It would’ve been the truth.  You’re awesome and I shouldn’t criticize you.  You’re not that bad.”

“No, you were right about this.  My competitiveness has gotten out of hand.  Plus, I need to learn to control my temper.  I should stop hitting and kicking people, anyhow.  Eighteen years of age means battery charges come with harsher penalities.  Besides, if four year olds seem to be able to handle it, then I can too.  I can’t promise I’ll stop trash talking people, though.  Also, I reserve the right to hit JJ one day.”

Otabek let out a chuckle that turned into a full on laugh.  “Yura, I want you to stop physically attacking people and making EVERYTHING a competition.  You don’t need to have a brain transplant.  If you stopped all your trash talking and anger, I’d worry you were ill. As for JJ, I’ll keep bail money at the ready.  There’s an exception to every rule.  Plus, we’d really have to expand the definition of people if we’re including JJ.”

Yuri was laughing at this point too.  “Are you sure I wouldn’t have to wait in line?  I know how fond of him you aren’t!”  They both laughed a bit more.  They quieted when they noticed the stares people were giving them.

“Honestly, I feel bad that I’d let you off the hook for clocking JJ.  He’s not really a bad guy, just super insecure.  Unfortunately, he’s also super obnoxious and I’d let you clock him,” Otabek snorted.

“Well, I’m going to work on it.  I’m really too old for physical violence.  Even if the violence would be totally warranted, like against JJ.  So, Beka, are we cool?”  His answer came in the form of a “thumbs up” which he swiftly returned.  They chilled at Beka’s gate until Yuri had to leave to get to his own.  

 ......

"Yuri, are you alright," Viktor asked pulling him from his reverie.  Looking back on it that time in Orly was the turning point.  It was the first time he saw Otabek a little differently.  The first time he consciously realized that whatever he felt for Otabek.  However, a balding, silver haired, Russian was currently demanding his attention.  So, he did his best to shake himself of the emotions and answer his coach's question.

"Don't worry about me, old man.  I'm alright.  Do you want anything from the coffee shop?"

"Here," Viktor said handing him some money, "You know what everyone likes.  Get us all something to drink.  We'll meet you at the gate."


End file.
